Friendships and relationships,
Like flowers and plants,
Will wilt without care.
We’re all in charge of watering,
Of letting the light in.
Look for the warning signs—
Drooping leaves,
Fading petals.
When you see them,
Take the time to:... – by Luciana Fisher | 19 Views added 14 days ago
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A bond so cherished,
Now tainted and sour.
A toxic friendship,
Drained by the hour.
Your words,
Like daggers,
Cutting deep and low,
Leaving scars hard to let go.
Your words,
Like shards of glass,
Carving wounds
That will never pass.
... – by Luciana Fisher | 42 Views added 16 days ago
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This one is going to hurt.
That is why it has taken me so long to write it,
Because a part of me still loves you
And thought you would call or write me.
I know you need your time.
You have your process, and I respect it.
But today, today,... – by Luciana Fisher | 29 Views added 16 days ago
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I want to dive,
swim—
in the wet, warm darkness
of the light emanating
from the iris of your eyes.
To be imprinted in the retina,
expanding the pupils
to black hole proportions,
its gravity sucking me
into the universe of your mind.
To... – by Luciana Fisher | 649 Views added 24 days ago
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I am uncomfortable
With the way you lie,
Uncomfortable with the way you procrastinate your life
As if tomorrow is promised.
I am uncomfortable watching you comfortably rot,
Wasting every second of your existence,
Like sand slipping through... – by Luciana Fisher | 154 Views added 24 days ago
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December 31st.
11:59 p.m.
On this side of the world.
60 seconds for my brain to rewind—
365 days
And hold suspended the last 42 years.
Quickly measuring
To sum up the average of my existence.
As the gin travels down my throat,
Burning... – by Luciana Fisher | 214 Views added 24 days ago
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(Start slow, introspective, and conversational.)
Have you watched any talent shows on TV?
Voice, Idol, Got Talent…
Have you seen it?
I love it—how palpable the moment is
When new talent is discovered.
The goosebumps we get.
I love... – by Luciana Fisher | 340 Views added 28 days ago
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Not ryoneeve anc expereince
the wolrd as you do.
There are people in siht wlord lkie me
taht tannot raed lkie uoy.
Ti sekat me ewtic sa long
ot rdea gniynath
taht nac eb os elpmis
rof srehto.
Take ti morf em:
Ignliv with YdsLexya si... – by Luciana Fisher | 2,091 Views added 28 days ago
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You will not know what love is
When chemistry floods your brain,
When butterflies fly in your belly,
When they know exactly how to pull you closer—
Fingers tracing the back of your neck,
Through your hair,
Bringing your lips to theirs.
So... – by Luciana Fisher | 137 Views added 1 month ago
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To tickle my creativity pickle,
I self-prescribed a dose of writing—once—a day.
—Once—
Therefore, this is my writing for... – by Luciana Fisher | 25 Views added 1 month ago
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You are always there,
Here, and everywhere!
Trailing behind with your sweet temper,
Always calm—while you follow me around.
It’s been eleven years,
Of you making my favorite sound—
A tiny puppy’s high-pitched howl,
Sounding like:... – by Luciana Fisher | 14 Views added 1 month ago
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Gratitude is Joy.
It’s a feeling that encompasses everything,
radiating with the essence of Life.
A genuine and complete sense of Thankfulness
that lights a bright flame,
emanating from your chest,
leaving a smile on your face.
Gratitude... – by Luciana Fisher | 123 Views added 1 month ago
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I had no expectations,
But—My Lord!
This soup is exquisite!
My, oh my!
I can tell you—my belly is full. Bulging.
I’m stuffed.
—Waiter! (finger snap!)
What’s the special? I’m on a gluten-free diet.
And I’ll have another, if you please!
... – by Luciana Fisher | 122 Views added 1 month ago
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I,
I fell in between,
Silently hidden,
Forgotten in the middle.
Pressed in the gaps
Between your snaps
And the cracks of your riddles.
Looking to you for cues,
Waiting on clues,
So I can shift-shape
Into whom or what you want me to be—
... – by Luciana Fisher | 119 Views added 1 month ago
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This could have been a love tale—
a tale of us!
Granddaughter, grandmother.
Both fragile, strong—and stubborn—
We allowed resentment to build up in the cracks, and
longing to linger in the seams.
Years passed—
We danced around the silence... – by Luciana Fisher | 119 Views added 1 month ago
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What is time if not an elusive, capricious thing?
We want more of it—but with more of it, we age.
And if we age, we have less time.
What an elusive, capricious thing—time is,
Was,
Is,
... – by Luciana Fisher | 113 Views added 1 month ago
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Give yourself permission.
Permission to think,
Permission to rethink,
Permission to talk,
Permission to walk away.
Permission to sit still,
Permission to make noise,
Permission to write,
Permission to sing.
Permission to disrupt... – by Luciana Fisher | 106 Views added 1 month ago
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What can I caption
that you have not seen or heard?
In the era we are the herd.
Followed, unfollowed, and blurred.
Swiping unsure of who we are or were.
Where a tick that is blue
Only turns us blue
With envy and sorrow
While our mental... – by Luciana Fisher | 116 Views added 1 month ago
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I have lived in many houses,
but never at home.
The plastic bag in which I kept my belongings faithfully aided me
with getting here
and there,
while facing the unknown.
(How does it feel like? To have a home?)
I grew up around people but... – by Luciana Fisher | 117 Views added 1 month ago
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The wind is blowing.
There is snow on the ground now.
The cold is fitting.
I welcome it, yet it feels even colder inside—where I cannot find the warmth of you.
Time did not get the memo, as though it refuses to acknowledge the weight of this... – by Luciana Fisher | 243 Views added 1 month ago
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There is nothing like Christmas in New York.
The bustling streets of Manhattan
Craft a mesmerizing symphony of sounds.
The lights and the colors add to the festive glee felt all around.
There's magic in the air when the busy city... – by Luciana Fisher | 140 Views added 1 month ago
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Goodbye is growth.
There comes a moment when you will do something for the last time. Maybe you’ll realize it, maybe you won’t. But in that moment, a shift will occur. Your compass will point in a new direction. Your frequency will change,... – by Luciana Fisher | 127 Views added 1 month ago
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Inside of me and
Never letting me be,
Sticking me in “my place,”
Endless circles in this race.
Curbing my courage,
Undermining my wits,
Restlessly capping my abilities—
Inexplicably,
Trying so hard to fail me, never letting me breathe!
... – by Luciana Fisher | 43 Views added 1 month ago
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Start your journey on Hope Avenue—
walk with purpose until you reach Courage Road.
Take a right and feel the strength beneath your feet as you climb.
The path is steep, but each step rewards you with a deeper sense of accomplishment.
Soon,... – by Luciana Fisher | 22 Views added 1 month ago
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Begin on Loneliness Avenue—keep moving straight. The road stretches endlessly, quiet except for the echo of your own footsteps. Soon, you’ll reach the crossroads at Regret Road. Turn left, but tread carefully; the air grows heavier with each step,... – by Luciana Fisher | 47 Views added 1 month ago
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I could stare at you all day,
As you meet my gaze and rarely look away
I remember the first time I saw you,
So tiny! You could fit in the palm of my hand.
You were always shy and afraid,
Hiding under every piece of furniture,
As I begged,... – by Luciana Fisher | 151 Views added 2 months ago
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Sad realization—
our writing is not always going to be good,
just as our food is not always going to be good.
At least, maybe not to your palate. Or theirs. His or hers.
Sometimes, not even to mine.
Perfection will not be achieved on a... – by Luciana Fisher | 248 Views added 2 months ago
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There is a poem here,
but I don’t want to promote it.
I don’t want it to come to you—that easy.
I want you to come to it.
To find it.
To rescue it from a strange corner on the internet,
from a dusty shelf,
or a quiet store.
I want it to... – by Luciana Fisher | 166 Views added 2 months ago
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I speak three languages.
The first is Portuguese,
With the "Rs" pronounced deep in the throat—rrrrr.
A romance language, rich in beauty and vast vocabulary.
Its structure grid, a maze.
Its dominance, for those who truly
Master this bull.
... – by Luciana Fisher | 138 Views added 2 months ago
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Who Are We?
Who are we, if not a collection of our memories?
I am the baby clutching the window,
The girl who slept on the floor,
The teen who could always love more—
Full of hopes and dreams,
The woman who lost a child,
Yet still learned... – by Luciana Fisher | 217 Views added 2 months ago
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